


The Evil You Know

by PalomaSheith



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Allura (Death), Allura was murdered, Betrayal, Childhood Friends, Deputy Keith, I love them but they are so dumb, Implied Cheating (Adam), Implied Romelle/Keith, It's the MidWest yall, M/M, Mentions of Coran - Freeform, Mentions of Iverson - Freeform, Mentions of Matt Holt, Minor Lance/Pidge | Katie Holt, Misunderstandings, Modern AU, Murder Mystery, Past Adam/Shiro (Voltron), Past Allura/Lotor (Voltron), Pining, Sheith Big Bang 2019, Shiro and Kuron are brothers, Shiro's Grandfather - Freeform, Shiro's parents are dead, Writer Shiro, idiots to lovers, major misunderstandings, seriously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:35:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21794668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PalomaSheith/pseuds/PalomaSheith
Summary: Shiro comes back to his hometown of Marmora, Illinois on the heels of a broken engagement after living in Chicago for the last 5 years. Broke and forced to stay with his brother and grandfather, he needs to work on a new novel for his publisher and decides to delve into an infamous local cold case: the murder of Allura Altea.Shiro plans to get the book done and get out of Marmora as soon as possible and avoid Keith Kagone, his childhood best friend and the boy he’s never stopped loving; despite Keith being taken.But plans change when Shiro comes face to face with the newly minted Deputy Kagone while gathering information on the case.Hurt and resentful, Keith has his own interests in the Altea case and his own reasons to be angry with Shiro for taking off without explanation and never speaking to him again. He agrees to work with Shiro, for now.But while working together on the Altea case, the men uncover far more than they bargained for, about themselves and the people that make up this small town.Will Keith and Shiro be able to unmask this killer? Or will they fall victim to the madman themselves?
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 93
Collections: Sheith Big Bang 2019





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to Sheith Big Bang 2019!
> 
> I want to thank the amazing and incredibly talented [Lidishka](https://twitter.com/Lido_shka) for choosing to be my partner. Your art is simply amazing. 
> 
> Please mind the tags and enjoy! <3
> 
> EDIT: 6/27/20  
> I decided to break this up into two chapters for readability.

_The events in our lives happen in a sequence in time, but in their significance to ourselves they find their own order: the continuous thread of revelation. -Eudora Welty_

  
  
  


As Shiro stood outside his grandfather’s house kicking at the cracks in the sidewalk with sweat beading on his neck, he wondered how things had gone so wrong. 

When he fled his small town for the thrills of Chicago, he’d never intended to return; but here he was standing at the edge of the fence line suitcase in hand, a broken engagement behind him, and $200 to his name.

He felt like a country song. 

A cliche. 

A failure.

Another bead of sweat trekked down the side of his neck as he gathered what he could of his tattered pride while he stared down the old bricks of the house searching their patterns for a sign or another way. _Any_ way to get back on track without coming home… But there wasn’t one.

He’d never thought that moving forward may mean moving back.

Shiro shifted his grip on his suitcase and took a deep breath before finally starting up the old stone walkway. Flowers spilled out of old clay pots that lined the path to the worn concrete stairs. He was halfway up when the screen door creaked open and Kuron slipped out. Shiro’s older brother leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed and an easy smile across his face. His long black and white hair was pulled into a messy tangle of a bun and his stained coveralls were tied loosely around his narrow hips. Shiro could smell the engine oil and grease that was smeared across his ratty tank top.

“Hey, baby brother,” Kuron reached out and pulled Shiro into a too tight hug. “Jiji’s been waiting for you all day.”

Shiro chuckled and pulled back. “Oh yeah? Where is he?” He batted at Kuron’s unstable hair. “And shouldn’t you be at work?”

“Pfft,” Kuron slung a tattooed arm around Shiro’s shoulder. “That’s the perk of being the boss,Kashi: I get to do whatever I want.” He pulled the screen door open and pushed Shiro inside. “Jiji! The prodigal son’s here!” Shiro rolled his eyes and he kicked off his shoes. 

The little red brick house on the corner Lunar and Kereberos hadn’t changed in the last five years. _Hell_ , Shiro smiled to himself, _it hadn’t changed in the last 20_. The same scarred dining table sat on the same old orange rug with the same faded picture of Baba hanging over it. The same mismatched living room set circled an out of place flatscreen while photos of Shiro and Kuron through the years lined the wood panelled walls with faded snapshots of their mother peppered in between. 

Kuron nudged Shiro one more time before disappearing into the kitchen. The swinging door fanned the scent of dashi and pork into the foyer.

The scent never failed to send Shiro back to his childhood. To the first time he stepped foot into this old house as a scared five year old. To Baba kneeling down and gathering him and Kuron into her arms soft arms and holding them close while they cried. They cried and cried. Forever it seemed. Safe and warm in Baba’s arms.

The smell of Jiji tucking them under a mountain of blankets on the couch and feeding them miso soup with little perfect cubes of pork. Just like Mama made it.

The only thing the man knew how to cook.

“Takashi!” Jiji burst out the kitchen with four bowls of miso on an old tin tray and a wide smile on his face. “Where is Adam, eh?”

Shiro rubbed the back of his neck and glanced at Kuron. “I told you, Jiji. We broke up.” He shifted back and forth. “That’s part of why I’m here.”

“Oh,” Jiji shook his head and set the tray on the table. “Well, more soup for me then.”

Kuron snickered and reached for a bowl. “Told ya he’d be torn up.”

Shiro sat down with a huff. “Yeah, you both are.” He poked a spoon into his bowl. Leave it to Jiji to make soup in 90 degree weather. 

“Look, it’s not my fault that nobody liked him.” Kuron leaned on his elbows. “He’s a tool, Kashi. You’re better off.”

“Hush, Kuro,” Jiji carefully sat down under Baba’s portrait. “You tease him too much and he’ll run off again.”

Kuron let out a bark of laughter. 

Shiro frowned. “For the last time, I didn’t run off. I wanted to leave for college _early_ and Adam offered me a room for the summer.”

“Yeah,” Kuron snorted. “His.”

Shiro narrowed his eyes. “It wasn’t like that.”

“It wouldn’t have been like anything if you’d just waited for the fall.”

Shiro picked at the ancient orange tablecloth. “I couldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“None of your business.”

“Oh yes,” Jiji interrupted their bickering. “Takashi, you have a message from the sheriff’s department. They say that your files are ready.”

Kuron arched a brow. “In town less than hour and already in trouble.”

“What is this about?” Jiji fixed him with a worried look. 

Shiro poked at his soup. “It’s for a new book.”

“Another book?” Jiji patted his hand with a smile. “How wonderful. What is this one about? Hhmm? More spies?”

Shiro shifted in his seat. “Murder.”

“Murder?”  
“Allura Altea.”

Kuron froze mid-bite. “What?”

“Look,” Shiro leaned back in his chair. “Kuro, I know you were friends with her but I figure that means you want to find out who killed her just as much as anyone. Maybe even more.”

Kuron stabbed at his pork with a frown. “It was a long time ago, Kashi.” He took a few more bites and sat back. “Besides shouldn’t you be focusing on getting your own shit together instead of stirring up other people’s?”

Shiro looked away. “I’m fine. It was mutual.”

Kuron rolled his eyes. “Sure, it was.”

It wasn’t. 

Apparently, it had been a long time coming. 

The late nights, the phone calls, the sudden influx of “weekend conferences”; they were just cars on the train that Shiro didn’t see until it hit him at 8pm on a Tuesday when Adam sat him on the couch and told him he’d met someone else. Someone with direction. Someone who wasn’t trapped in the past.

Shiro squished his spoon around the broth.

“Look, I gotta get back to the shop.” 

The screech of Kuron’s chair against the hardwood pulled Shiro out of his memories. “Oh yeah?” He arched a brow at his brother. “I thought you got to do whatever you wanted.”

“Yeah, I do.” Kuron came around the table. “Like this!” He grabbed Shiro by the neck and ruffled his hair. 

Shiro pushed his brother away with a laugh, “Asshole!” He tried in vain to fix his hair. Kuron bounced behind him and fluffed his hair again. “Stop!”

Kuron dodge Shiro’s swipe and grabbed his forelock. “Ha!”. When Shiro slapped at him, Kuron jumped back with a laugh. He pulled a bandana from his pocket and snapped it at Shiro.

“Alright, alright,” Jiji laughed from his chair. “Go on, Kuro, leave him be.”

Kuron snapped the bandana one last time with a laugh before dashing toward the back door. “See ya later, punk!”

“You’re the punk, idiot!”

Jiji shook his head. “So much has changed but so much has stayed the same.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  


Being in his old bedroom hadn’t brought the comfort Shiro had hoped for. Instead of sheltering Shiro, the room was filled with ghosts of laughter and stolen glances. The spirit of the man he’d tried to put behind him came surging to the forefront everywhere he looked.

And every glimpse of that spectre came the reminder of why he left. 

Another pulse in the ache of the Ketih shaped wound in his heart that never really healed.

There was nowhere to hide from the memories. 

Or the pain they brought.

How many times had Keith come knocking on his window with a new book to share? How many hours had they spent together knocking knees under shared blankets watching campy old alien movies? How many nights had they spent huddled together in makeshift pillow forts spilling secrets to each other in the dark? 

How many years had Shiro sat in this same bed longing for courage to confess how he felt?

Eventually, Shiro fell into a fitful sleep. 

He woke the next morning restless and tired. He curled into the window seat letting Kuron’s fat old Siamese, Mochi, use him as a pillow while he stared outside. Keith’s house was still visible through the treeline and he couldn’t keep his eyes off of it. 

Was he still there?

Shiro found himself swept up in the tide of bittersweet memories that took most of the day to escape. 

It was after three by the time he managed to pull himself together enough to venture into the center of town to the courthouse that doubled as the sheriff’s office. It was an old building, tall and self-important perched on the very top of the only hill town like a beige beacon of justice. A worn concrete staircase, erected by the Marmora Jaycees in 1956, carved a path up the incline to the entrance. 

Narrow wooden staircases and brass elevator doors bordered the foyer. Hand carved wooden signs directed citizens where to pay their taxes register their cars, and where the sheriff's office could be found. Shiro’s Nikes squeaked across the thick glassy tile as he made his way to the polished oak doors and thin olive green carpet that marked the entrance to the sheriff's office. Kolivan’s name was painted in thick block letters across the frosted glass window. The same place it had been for the last 32 years. A little brass bell let out a cheerful jangle as Shiro pushed the door open.

And stopped dead in his tracks.

The door fell shut with a heavy thud taking all of the oxygen from Shiro’s lungs with it. 

Seconds ticked away like years as he stared into a familiar set of indigo eyes. 

“Shiro…” The name fell from Keith’s lips like heavy dew washing away whatever was left of Shiro’s resolve. 

He hadn’t intended to see Keith while he was here. No, Shiro was going to hide away and write and pray that God took mercy on him until he could get enough money together to get back to Chicago where he could safely nurse that open wound.

But life was never that easy.

And God wasn’t that kind.

So here he stood in rumbled sweatpants and a worn out tank top staring into the most beautiful face he hoped to never see again. 

And couldn’t look away.

Shiro opened his mouth fumbling for words when the door swung open behind him. The solid oak hitting him in the head and knocking him back to reality. 

Unforgiving heterosexual reality.

Romelle, with her beautiful smile and baby blue crop top, came bounding into the office swinging a brown paper bag and singing Keith’s name. She paid no attention to him as she nudged the little wooden gate open and hopped onto Keith’s desk. She crossed her long tan legs and pulled a fat chocolate chip muffin from the crinkling bag. She held it in front of Keith’s face and chirped, “Fresh from the oven” before dropping a sweet kiss on his cheek.

Shiro’s stomach sank at the sight; so similar to that night five years ago. 

Romelle’s pink lips puffed out in a little bubblegum pout when Keith gave her no reply. “What’s your deal?” She followed his line of sight and topled off the desk with a squeak that resembled Shiro’s name. Bright blue eyes stared up at him in disbelief beneath a perfect halo of golden waves. She bit her lip and looked back at Keith. “I’m…I’m sorry.” She snatched the bag from the desk squashing it and it’s contents against her full chest. “ I’m going to go find Hunk.” She took two steps backwards before fleeing around a corner in a blue and blonde blur. 

Shiro watched Keith, who made no move to speak, and set his jaw. “Still with Romelle, I see.”

Keith blinked rapidly and nodded. “We-uh-We rented a house off Vine. By the park.”

Shiro tried not to think of the implications but “That’s good for kids” slipped out of his mouth anyway.

Keith cocked his head. “Kids? What do-”  
“Shiro!” A tall thin man with short brown hair stuck his head around the corner behind Keith. “I knew it!” The man stepped out fully and clapped Keith on the back. 

Keith frowned and stepped away. 

The man seemed undeterred. “When Pidge said she had to gather files for a Shirogane, I told her, ''I bet Shiro’s comin’ back to write a book’ and-ha!-I was right.” He shook his head and lifted a brown bank box onto the counter. “She’s gonna be so pissed.” 

Shiro cleared his throat. “Uh-Do I-”

The man patted the top of the box. “Since it’s ‘technically’ still open, we can’t give you _everything,_ but you can always pick Keith’s brain.” He winked.

“K-Keith?” Shiro swallowed hard.  
“Oh yeah,” the man put his arm around Keith’s broad shoulders. “He knows _everything_ about the Altea case.”

Keith pushed the man’s arm off. “Lance. Stop.”

Lance ignored him. “He thinks he’s gonna solve it.” He snorted.

“Lance.” Keith’s voice was a warning. 

An unheeded warning.

“As if…” Lance laughed to himself and patted the top of the box. “Oh! Shiro!” He leaned forward, “Is your lawyer boyfriend in town? Or I mean fiance.” He laughed. “I wanna ask him a question about land disputes. See, Pidge says-”

“No. Sorry,” Shiro rubbed the back of his neck. “We broke up.” He glanced at Keith.

Keith bit his lip and crossed his arms looking away.

“What?” Lance squaked. “That’s a shame. A damn shame.” He nudged Keith. “But hey, ya know-”

Keith grabbed Lance’s collar. “Don’t you fucking dare, McClain.”

Lance rolled his eyes. “Fine.” He brushed off his collar and sighed. “But someday-”

“No.”

“Shiro,” Lance leaned on the box again. “Back me up here!”

“I’m sorry… Um… Lance, was it? But… Do-Do I know you?”  
Lance shrieked. 

Keith snorted. 

“It’s-It’s-It’s me! Lance! I-I was Keith’s biggest rival! I was the other pitcher!”

Other pitcher? Shiro didn’t realize there was another one.

Although… Back then he’d never paid attention to anything else when Keith was involved. 

But he couldn’t very well admit that now. 

It was too late.

Even when he’d tried to admit it then, it had been too late. 

That night on the baseball field haunted him since.

“I’m sorry,” he looked at his feet and cleared his throat. “Bad memory, I guess.”

Lance sighed and crossed his arms. “I guess being a celebrity changes people.” He shook his head.

“I’m not-”

“Oh sure,” Lance stepped around the desk through a swinging partition. “You’re like big time. Weren’t you on the… Was it the-the uh-the uh-” 

“New York Times’ Best Seller List?” Keith supplied. “Twice.”

Shiro looked at him.

Keith looked away.

“Yeah!” Lance hauled the box over the desk and handed it to Shiro. “That!” He put his hand on Shiro’s back and guided him to the door. “Pidge loves your books. She said they were masterpieces. I’ll have to bring her by to get them signed.”

Shiro shifted the box in his arms. “I’d rath-”

“Oh!” Lance grinned at him and leaned in. “Are you with your graddad and Kuro?”

Shiro nodded and tried to hold the lid on with his chin. 

Lance swung the door open and grinned. “How long are you staying?”

Shiro chanced one last look at Keith as he replied. “Indefinitely.”

Keith still wouldn’t look at him. 

Shiro walked out the door. 

  
  
  


Mitch Iverson had gathered up his tackle and headed toward his favorite fishing spot at the base of Kerberos Bluff. It was half past five in the morning and the dew was still thick on the grass. The sun was barely peeking over the ridge of the bluff and the humidity seemed to rise with every step he trudged down toward the water. Later, he would recall humming Otis Redding and wondering what to get Loretta for their anniversary. He was headed toward a thicket of milkweed when he saw the girl.

And the world changed.

He would say that he didn’t understand what he was seeing at first. That she could have been a painting, a Remrandt brought to life and laid out in the wet grass. 

But she wasn’t. 

She was real. 

And she was dead.

He remembered the hollow clank of his gear hitting the ground before he turned and ran back to his truck. He pulled the door open with shaking hands and grabbed his phone from the console. He didn’t bother with 911; he called Kolivan. 

Shiro read through Iverson’s statement again before letting the smudged copy fall back to the desk. He’d spent the last two days in his bedroom, decidedly _not_ thinking of Keith, reading and rereading every statement, every report, every faded PostIt from the Altea case. He was on a quest. A search. He was looking for… Well, something.

Something more than what everyone else already knew.

Yet, every time he searched through the clutter to the cardboard bottom, there was nothing to be found. Just the old same scraps everyone had.

Everyone knew Allura Altea had disappeared from her own graduation. She had kissed her father good-bye and promised to be home by dawn. 

But she never made it. 

Instead she had been strangled and left at the bottom of the ridge in the blue satin dress she’d worn under her graduation gown. Flowers were scattered over her body and her makeup was immaculate and not a hair was found out of place. 

Who could have done such a thing?

Clearly, the town whispered, it had to have been the boyfriend: Lotor Daibazaal. Everyone knew they fought all the time. Break up this week and make up the next. Both too stubborn for their own good. 

And both filthy rich.

Rich enough to hide their tracks, everyone whispered. Don’t you know his father’s the DA?

But there was never any proof.

Never anything new.

Just wild rumors and baseless accusations. 

Shiro needed air.

Twenty minutes later found him wandering aimlessly through the wooded trail behind Jiji's house. Back in junior high, the city decided to take this patch of swamp and drain just enough to pave a trail through it and declaring it a nature preserve.

But for a mossy piece of lowland it had turned out surprisingly nice. The bent ivy covered oak trees had been bent by years of standing water, now they curved over the pavement creating a tunnel and an air of solitude that Shiro had always loved.

Especially when he used to run it with Keith. Just the two of them running in circles along the path panting and laughing and just together.

But that was before Shiro ruined everything.

At the steady pounding footfalls of an approaching runner Shiro leaned over the side of a little wooden bridge and out of the way. He stared down at the muddy trickle of water below and waited. The weathered wooden planks shook under the runner’s feet but came to a stop halfway across. 

Shiro’s skin prickled under a heavy stare; he turned. “K-Keith…” His heart lodged itself in his throat as he took in the sight before him. Keith had cut an old track sweatshirt into a crop top that stretched tight across his broadened shoulders and stopped just below the top of his six pack. Tight red and black leggings wrapped themselves around his sinfully long legs accentuating every muscled inch. Sweat dripped along his temple clinging to each errant hair that had fallen loose from his ponytail. His dark brows were furrowed over narrowed indigo eyes as he looked Shiro up and down with a frown. “What are you doing here?”

Shiro open and closed his mouth unable to form words or stop the blush spreading along the top of his cheeks as his eyes searched for a place to land that wouldn’t get him punched. 

Keith frowned harder. 

Shiro looked down at his worn out sandals and cleared his throat. “I needed some air.”

“You don’t run anymore?”

He curled his toes in his slides. “Not outside.”

“That’s stupid,” Keith huffed. “You...You used to hate treadmills.”

“I still do.”

“Then why?”

 _Because it reminds me of you._ But he couldn’t say that. Instead he shrugged and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “How is…” _Romelle._ It’s the polite thing to do. To ask about her. About _them_. But his stomach turned at the thought. “Your mother?” He cleared his throat. “How’s Krolia?”

Keith relaxed marginally. “Fine. She’s uh… She’s good.” He looked over the side of the bridge. “She asks about you.”

“Keith, I-”

“It’s fine.” He flexed his fingers. “I never told her.”

“About the…”

“About you never calling. Never writing.” He cut Shiro with a glare. “How you disappeared from my life without a fucking word.”

Shiro’s throat constricted. His eyes burned with threatening tears. 

“I know it was… Different for you, Shiro. But you… You could have-”

A bicycle bell rang out and a man called “On your left!” 

Without thinking Shiro grabbed Keith’s arm and pulled him across the bridge and flush against his chest. The boards rattled and creaked as the cyclists rode past. But Shiro could only hear the blood pounding in his ears and see the beautiful wide eyes staring up at him. 

He had no idea how long they stood there pressed chest to chest, hearts pounding in tandem, but it wasn’t long enough. 

Keith batted his eyes and shook his head pushing away from Shiro’s embrace. “I-I should go.”

“Wait!” Shiro hadn’t meant to shout. He cleared his throat. “Please, Keith. Please wait. I… Keith, I need you.”

Keith’s eyes widened.

“I mean,” Shiro rubbed the back of his neck. “I need your help.”

A flash of emotion crossed Keith’s face, but was gone before Shiro knew what to make of it. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Keith balled his hands and pressed them against his thighs. 

Shiro didn’t either. But God, he was so weak. He’d fucked all up it once, he just wanted-no, _needed_ \- another chance to keep Keith in his life.

Even if he couldn’t love Shiro back.

“Please, Keith.” He was not above begging. “Lance said nobody knew the Altea case better. And we could…Try. We could try to be friends again.” _I miss you._ “If you wanted.”

Keith bit his bottom lip sucking the pink flesh between his teeth with his tongue. Shiro watched transfixed by the absent motion. Keith huffed and tapped his thigh with his fist. He looked back at Shiro with a frown. “Fine. I’ll help you with the case.”

“Thank you, Keith. I-”

“But that doesn’t make us friends.”

Shiro would take what he could get. “I mean it, Keith. I appreciate this.” And this was a start.

Keith looked away. “Yeah, well… Whatever. Call me.” He started running. 

“Wait!” Shiro tried to trot after him, but slid out of his sandal snapping the strap. “I need your number.” He caught himself on the rail. 

Keith turned around and smirked. “It’s the same as it’s always been. I never changed it.” He turned back and disappeared around the corner. 

All Shiro could do is stand on the bridge holding his broken sandal with a smile. 

  
  
  
  
  


“You’ve been staring at your phone for the last hour.” Kuron leaned against the doorframe with a smirk. “Got a hot date?”

“No.” Shiro could feel the heat in his cheeks. “And it hasn’t been an hour.”

Kuron arched a brow and pushed off the frame. “You know…" He purposely walked in front of Shiro knocking his legs off the ottoman. "You’re not a good liar.” He sat on the ottoman. “And every time you try to be, it was always about Keith.”

Shiro cleared his throat and picked up a file he’d meant to be reading. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Kuro.” 

“Pfft. Ok. Then who are you waiting on?”

Shiro huffed. “It’s to do with research. I’m trying to line up an interview.” Not the whole truth.

But not a lie.

Using the only phone number he knew better than Jiji’s, he’d texted Keith almost immediately upon returning to his grandfather’s house. And waited.

Two hours. 

Four.

Fourteen.

After fourteen hours of anticipation, Keith had replied with a simple “hey”.

Shiro replied instantly at 4:45 a.m., desperation be damned. After a few awkward messages, he got the courage to ask Keith to set up an interview with Lotor. 

Surprisingly, he agreed. 

But under one condition: He came along.

Shiro enthusiastically agreed and had gotten ready two hours early and been staring at his phone for the last 56 minutes. 

Not that he was counting. 

Kuron leaned back on his elbows. “With who?”

“Lotor.”  
Kuron sat up with a frown. “You’re really going through with this?”

Shiro bristled. “I said I was.”

“Kashi,” Kuron set his jaw. “People have worked hard to put this in the past and move on.” He rubbed his hands up and down his thighs. “You haven’t been here. You..” he leaned forward. “Look, people don’t want to talk about it.”

“Kuro, why are you being like this?” Shiro set the file aside. “She was your friend.”

Kuron looked away. “I know.” He looked back. “But you’re my brother. And protecting you is more important.” He put his hand on Shiro’s shoulder and stood up. “It’s my job.”

And he’d done it perfectly through the years. 

Shiro opened his mouth to ask why when a familiar melody cut through the air. He grabbed for his phone.

Kuron burst out laughing. “Oh my God, Kashi. Is that the Voltron theme?”

Shiro blushed. “Shut up.It’s a classic.”

Kuron patted him on the back. “God, you’re such a dork.” 

Shiro ignored him and his fading laughter as he swiped to answer. “Keith!” He grabbed his bag. “Are you here?”

“Come on. I don’t have all day.” He hung up.

Shiro took a deep breath and a final look in the mirror before he stepped outside. 

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting Keith to drive; maybe a classic muscle car or a well worn work truck even a battle scarred Jeep. Keith had always talked about owning a motorcycle, it had never occurred to Shiro that he’d actually have one. So when he stepped out onto Jiji’s porch, he was in no way prepared for the sight of a leather-clad Keith straddling a cherry red crotch rocket, a helmet in his hand and a frown on his pretty face. 

All of his blood quickly rerouted and he could only stare. 

“Are you coming or not?” Keith revved the engine and Shiro realized his mouth was open. 

“Um.. Yeah. Yeah.” Shiro let the screen door fall shut behind him and hopped off the porch. “Holy shit, Keith.” He ran his hand along the cowling. “It’s beautiful.” 

Keith cleared his throat and crossed his arms. “Thanks.” A faint blush dusted his cheeks. 

“How fast does she go?” Shiro grinned. 

Keith pressed his lips together trying to fight the smile when he declared, “190.”

Shiro stumbled. “Miles per hour?”

Keith didn’t bother fight the smile this time. He tossed Shiro a helmet. “Are we doing this or not?”

Shiro’s throat went dry. He nodded and strapped on the helmet. He slung his leg over the side. Keith pointed where to put his feet before sliding the helmet over his loose braid. “You better hold on.”

Shiro stared down at Keith’s narrow hips and took a deep breath. He wasn’t going to fuck this up. “Ok.” He gently set his hands on Keith’s waist keeping careful distance between them. 

HIs answering laugh hummed through the helmet’s speakers and sent chills over Shiro’s body. “You’re gonna have to do better than that.”

Shiro closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around Keith who tensed at the contact. “How’s this?”

“Better,” Keith relaxed a little. “Ready?”

Shiro didn’t have time to reply before Keith was backing them down the drive and onto the road. He wove through the grid of narrow streets past all the little landmarks that made Marmora home. Past The Civil War battle marker; past the American Ice Cream stand; around the picturesque city park with its perfect white gazebo in the center. Shiro’s mind wandered to all the nights he’d laid on the wooden benches inside, lukewarm beer in hand, telling Keith how’d he make it out here someday. 

Shiro’s stomach tightened and he looked away. 

They buzzed past neat little clapboard houses with coordinated flower beds and sensible paint colors and children in the front yard. 

Which one was Keith’s now? How long before his yard was full of children and laughter? 

It’s what he deserved. 

What Shiro used to dream of giving him.

Shiro squeezed his eyes closed letting himself pretend that there was more here than there was. Something soft and loving and easy. Something close to what he’d always wanted.

He nestled closer knowing full well that this was just borrowed intimacy, a lie, but it still soothed those old wounds nonetheless.

Wrapped up in the daydream, Shiro didn’t notice when they left the city limits and drove north toward Springfield. It was a full 45 minutes before he began to wonder where they were actually going. “Keith?”

“Mm?”

“Where are we going?”

“Lotor’s.”

“Don’t the Daibazaals live on the other side of the ridge?”  
Keith laughed, low and silky in Shiro’s ear. “ Took you long enough to notice. Lotor’s an ASA.” He shifted gears. “He lives in Springfield.”

“Oh.” 

They rode on in silence another short while watching as the plains gave way to large houses and lakeside views. Keith paused a few times seemingly to check street names as they wove through rows of new constructions before gradually guiding them to a towering white brick mansion. 

“This is it.” Keith pulled his helmet off and shielded his eyes. “Oh yeah,” he fastened the helmet to the bars. “He doesn’t know you’re coming.”

Shiro watched him sling his long leather clad legs over the seat and nodded. “Wait. What?”

Keith shrugged and took Shiro’s helmet. “He barely agreed to speak to _me_. There’s no way he’d talk to some… Writer.”

Shiro had a feeling he should be offended. “Who did you tell him I was?”

“I didn’t.” He started up the walkway.

Shiro caught up in a few steps. “Keith, what am I supposed to say?”

“Nothing.” Keith continued up toward the imposing metal doors. 

“Nothing?”

Keith sighed. “You used to be smart.” He turned to Shiro and pulled the messenger bag from his shoulder.

“Hey!”  
“You look like a reporter.”

“Technically, I am.

“Not anymore.” He tucked the bag in between two symmetrical hedges. He held up a hand to stop Shiro’s protests before they began. The same way he always had. “He’ll know you’re Kuron’s little brother. You two look weirdly alike.”

“Thank you?”

“But the hair is a dead give away that you’re you.”

“Keith.”

“It’s fine. Listen, you’re just gonna keep your mouth shut and let me do the talking.” Exactly how they used to pull off any of their stunts. “I’m the cop. You’re just…” he looked him over “Meat.”

Shiro blinked. “Meat?” Keith walked away without a reply 

“I’m not meat…” Shiro muttered. He ran a hand through his silver hair and gave his bag one last look. 

Keith was already knocking at the great gleaming doors by the time Shiro caught up with him. He shot Keith an annoyed look. Keith smirked. 

Shiro immediately wanted nothing more than to kiss it off his lips. 

The doors swung open to reveal a petite blonde in a stylish red suite and a sleek high ponytail. She smiled at them while sizing them up. “You must be Mr. Daibazaal’s next appointment.” She stepped back on her five inch pumps and waved them inside. “I’m Ezor, Mr. Daibazaal’s assistant.” She extended a perfectly manicured hand to Keith. 

“Hi,” Keith grabbed her hand, she jolted but kept her smile plastered. “I’m Deputy Kogane and this-” he released her and gestured at Shiro. “Is uh-”

“Hi,” Shiro extended his hand with a smile. “I’m Officer Shirogane. I’m a consultant helping out with cold cases around the state.”

Ezor’s smile warmed. “I see.” She looked Shiro over again. “Officer.”

She flipped her ponytail over her shoulder and walked past them. “Follow me.”

Shiro smiled at Keith more than a little proud of himself.  
Keith rolled his eyes and mouthed “really?”

Shiro bit his lip and cleared his throat trying to fight down a giggle. 

Ezor lead them across a sleek white foyer to a set of white double doors. “You’ll be meeting Mr. Daibazaal in the parlor.” She pushed the doors wide revealing another white room with sleek geometric furniture and a large black fireplace. 

At the far wall, a tall, well built man looked out a black trimmed window. 

Ezor turned and gestured to a boxy black couch. “Please have a seat.” 

Keith did.

Shiro didn’t. 

Ezor smiled and made for the door the tattoo of her heels the only sound in the room. 

“Deputy Kagone,” the man at the window greeted without turning. “I see you’ve brought a guest.”  
Keith shifted in his seat. “Yeah, this is Officer Shirogane. From the state. He’s uh, helping out. Thanks for making time for us today”

The man turned around revealing a disarmingly handsome face wearing a mask of shock. “Kuron?”

Shiro felt his cheeks warm. He hadn’t thought of the fact that his brother had been Lotor’s classmate, maybe even his friend. “No,” he cleared his throat. “He’s my brother.”

Lotor’s clear blue eyes flicked over his body finding his prosthesis and giving a stiff smile. “Ah, yes.” He tugged on the cuff of his suit. “Takashi, wasn’t it?”

Shiro nodded. 

“It’s absolutely astonishing how much you favor each other,” Lotor smiled. “You could be clones.”

Shiro resisted the urge to roll his eyes. 

Lotor moved across the room with a stiff sort of elegance that reminded Shiro of the doctors and adjuncts he’d met at the seemingly endless “events” that Adam had taken him to. He wore the same forced smile and feigned interest as he listened to Keith speak as the academic elites wore when they found out what kind of books Shiro wrote. 

Lotor was clearly humoring them. He had no intention of divulging anything, he was merely allowing them here to keep up his history of cooperation. 

We’ll see about that. 

Shiro ran his hand along the back of a black, boxy looking sofa and smiled to himself. “As my partner said, we appreciate you taking the time to see us today, Mr. Daibazaal. I understand that you’re a busy man.”

Lotor watched Shiro’s movements with an arched brow. “I am. But as I said before, _Officer_ Shirogane, anything for Marmora PD.”

Shiro hummed to himself. “Anything?” He chanced a glance at Keith who was watching him with open curiosity. “I wonder if, just for the sake of saying we did, would you go over your actions that night?”

“Of course,” Lotor narrowed his eyes at Shiro before adopting his professional aire. “As I have always said, I left the graduation ceremony and went to the ridge. I-”

“Why the ridge?” Shiro interrupted.

“I planned to meet Allura there.”

“Yes, but why there? Why the ridge? Why not the cliffs?” Shiro leaned on the arm of the boxy couch. “I mean… The cliffs were closer. More popular. Why the ridge?”

“Because…” Lotor shifted in his seat. “It was special to us.”

“How?” Keith leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “What made the ridge special?”

“Well,” Lotor uncrossed his legs. “We went there on our first date. And on many nights following. The view was unrivaled. And Allura loved the stars. She often brought a blanket and telescope.” He smiled to himself. “She was quite enamored with astronomy.” He crossed his legs the other way. “She often said that…” He reached for the thin silver chain around his neck letting his fingers absently play along the chain. 

“What did she say?” Keith asked gently.

“‘If there were no night, we would not appreciate the day, nor could we see the stars and the vastness of the heavens.’”

“‘We must partake of the bitter with the sweet. There is a divine purpose in the adversities we encounter every day. They prepare, they purge, they purify, and thus they bless,’” Shiro finished. “James E. Faust, isn’t it?”

Lotor smiled at Shiro. “Indeed. She was a bit of an idealist.” He let his fingers linger on the chain a few seconds longer before clearing his throat. “As I was saying, I went to the ridge and waited.”

“All night?” Keith asked.

“All night. And before you ask, no, there are no witnesses only my cellphone pings from the tower which would have been the same tower her body was found near,” Lotor stood. “So, if you are quite-”

“Why were you there?” Shiro pushed off the couch.

Lotor frowned. “I have already explained. It was a significant location to us.”

“Yes, but why that night?”

“Why not a party?” Keith sat back. “Didn’t Veronica McClain host the graduation party? Wouldn’t it have been the place to be? Ya know? The most popular girl in school and the class president missing out on the biggest party of the year? Really?”

“I went mine,” Shiro gestured to Keith. “You?”

“Oh yeah. I got pretty trashed,” Keith laughed. “I puked on Lance’s bed.”

Shiro laughed. “You could never hold your liquor.”

“Better than you,” Keith shot back with a smile. 

“Yes, well,” Lotor’s hand wandered back to his neck and the silver chain there. “I have never really seen the appeal in ‘getting trashed’.”

“What about Allura?” Shiro walked over the cold fireplace taking stock of the geometric statues that lined the mantle. “Kuron used to party with her sometimes.” He picked up a black prism. “Could Allura have gone without you?”

“No,” Lotor answered. “Not that night.”

“Why?” Keith leaned on the couch arm. “Why was it important?”  
“Because… I had a gift for her.”

Keith laughed and shifted. “Right. She was a beautiful girl. I’m sure some alone time was pretty tempting. Especially in that little blue dress sh-”

“I was going to propose,” Lotor cut him off with a glare. “Alright?”

“That’s the ring, isn’t it?” Shiro pointed at his neck. “You still have it.”

An array of emotions crossed Lotor’s face before he let out a sigh. “It is.” He pulled the chain from beneath his shirt revealing the platinum solitaire. It was a stunning pink diamond, at least three carats. Lotor didn’t bother looking up at them. “She had no idea. But I… I wanted to make it official before starting at university. She was going to Northwestern and I had taken a scholarship to the University of Chicago.”

“That’s not that far,” Keith dismissed. “Like what? 20 miles?”

“It’s still an hour in the city,” Shiro answered. “And, trust me, that’s a lot when you take school into account.”

Lotor ran his thumb across the gem. “Correct again, Shirogane.” He let the ring fall heavy against his chest. “I wanted to solidify my commitment to her. She was worried.”

“Was that the only thing she was worried about?” Keith asked.

“What do mean?”

Keith shrugged. “Like… She was a busy girl. Lots going on. Maybe too much for a big commitment.”

“What are you implying?”

“Nothing,” Keith wiped his palms on his denim clad thighs. “Just that she had a lot of things going on. Big dreams of her own. Maybe being a wife wasn’t one of them.”

Lotor scoffed. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Keith poked at glass figure on the table. “Maybe not. But what if…” 

“What if you proposed and she said no?” Shiro moved to stand beside Keith. 

“I wonder how mad you would have been,” Keith looked at Shiro. “I bet pretty mad.”

“Oh yeah,” Shiro nodded. “I heard they had epic fights.”

“Legendary,” Keith agreed. 

“I bet it wouldn’t have taken much.”

“Nope,” Keith let the p pop. “Can you imagine how embarrassing that would have been?”

“How insulting?”

“Stop,” Lotor flexed his fingers. 

“Who did she think she was?” Keith stood slowly, brilliant eyes locked on Lotor. “You were, no, you _are_ Lotor Daibazaal. And she was just a spoiled little princess.”

“No,” Lotor’s cheeks flushed. “You didn’t know her.”

“You put up with a lot from her, didn’t you?” Shiro added. 

“What did she say?” Keith moved closer. “Did she call you names? Did she laugh?”

“Enough,” Lotor growled. 

“Anyone would have snapped.”

“Anyone,” Keith nodded. “Any man would have.”

“Heat of the moment…”

“Just reach out and wrap your ha-”

“I said, ‘enough!” Lotor roared. “I didn’t touch her! I never laid a hand on her! I loved her! More than anything!” His voice cracked. “She was the only person who ever gave a damn about me!” The first tear fell from the corner of his eye. “The only one! And I-” he choked out a sob “I would have fucking died for her!” 

Keith smiled at him. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Daibazaal.” He set the figure back on the table with a clank and turned toward the door.

“We’ll see ourselves out,” Shiro nodded and followed Keith.

“Get out,” Lotor panted. 

Back out in the sunshine, Keith tucked his hands in his pockets and sighed. “Well… That’s that.”

“What?” Shiro asked as he retrieved his bag. 

“He didn’t do it,” Keith jumped off the last step and grabbed his helmet. 

Shiro threw his bag over his broad shoulders and hurried down the stairs. “You don’t sound surprised.” Keith tossed him the spare helmet, he caught it with a frown. “You already knew.”

Keith shrugged and slung his legs over the bike. “I had a suspicion. Had to see it for myself.”

“You used me,” Shiro turned the helmet over his hands. He shouldn’t be surprised. Keith had his own reasons for being here, he knew that, but it still stung.

Keith’s movements stuttered. “It’s not…” He trailed off. “Are you coming?”

Shiro put the helmet on and took his seat behind Keith, opting to hold onto the back instead of his waist. Keith glanced back over his shoulder and sighed. “Shiro…”

“Yeah?”

“Nothing.” He revved the motorcycle and jolted them forward forcing Shiro grab his waist for support. Neither spoke the entire ride back.

  
  
  
  


Shiro spent the next two days staring at the blank white page on his computer screen trying to find the words and the will to write. But nothing would come. He wanted to give Allura’s story the detail and the respect it deserved, to paint a vivid portrait of the girl she was and lives she touched. He wanted to, but he couldn’t. 

Every time he laid his fingers on the keys, his mind wandered back to Lotor. Lotor, the distant, poised figure and the secret ring around his neck. The way his veneer chipped and to break in the man’s voice when he spoke of her. Of Allura. 

Shiro thought of the fact that Lotor had everything he could ever want, except the woman that he loved. No amount of money or prestige or time could fill the void Allura Altea left in Lotor’s life. 

And it never would.

Shiro leaned back in his chair the cheap plastic creaking in protest as he stretched his stiff limbs. He scrubbed a hand over his face and sighed. Surely, he could do this. 

Afterall, he knew a thing or two about the devastation of loss, about the holes love left.

Didn’t he?

His eyes travelled to the little brass frame on the corner of his desk. His back popped as he leaned forward and grabbed the frame and blew the dust away with a frown. He knew the smiling faces better than he knew his own, but it was getting harder to remember more than just the photos. Who were his parents? Sure, he knew their names, their birthdays, their death date. But who were they to him?

He’d been so young, their time together so brief, that any awkward condolences he’d received growing up, had seemed unnecessary. 

He lost them, sure, but he didn’t really get the chance to know them.

Shiro ran a finger across the glass and tried to remember the sound of his mother’s voice when she sang, the cadence of her laughter, the way she said his name. He tried to recall the softness of her skin or scent of her perfume, the warmth of her hugs. 

Shiro closed his eyes and reached toward the fleeting light she left in his memory, the little well of sunshine he relied on when he was a boy and needed her. Those moments curled up in this room holding her teddy bear, he imagined she could hear him and answer. She was his private little night light. 

But as he grew, the light grew distant and now he could never quite reach. There were only flashes of smiles and shades of emotion, but nothing solid. Just shadows of ghosts. Remnants of a life that he lived when he was someone else. Another life. 

Shiro sat the frame back on the scarred desk and looked out the window to the little white house

three doors down. Keith wasn’t there anymore, but he was still _here_. Still alive, still smiling, and laughing.

Still living. 

But… What if? 

The thought of Keith living and thriving in his absence was all that kept Shiro moving forward when he doubted his actions. Keith did that.

Not the faded, filtered memory of parents he barely knew, but his love for the man who had brought love and laughter back into his life. His love for Keith had colored every decision he made. He’d walked away from here, from this life, from his family, so that he wouldn’t dim Keith’s light. 

So Keith would have a chance to grow and to love and shine.

But what if that light went out?

The thought alone made Shiro’s stomach clench and his heart stutter. 

It had been impossible to fill the hole with Keith alive, Shiro couldn’t imagine the blackhole his death would leave.

He wasn’t sure he’d be able to cope with the gaping chasm of loss that Lotor lived with every day. 

If he truly was innocent.

“Knock. Knock.” Kuron tapped on the doorframe startling Shiro from his thoughts. “How’s it goin’ Shakespeare?” Mochi meowed from the floor and rubbed against his owner’s leg. Kuron rolled his eyes and smiled snatching the cat up in oil smeared hands. 

Shiro softened at the scene smiling to himself as he crossed the room. He scritched at the old cat’s ears while Kuron cradled his chubby belly. 

“So how’s the book coming?” Kuron blew an errant hair off Mochi’s ear. 

Shiro sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s not. Not really.”

Kuron flipped Mochi on his back and scratched between his front legs. The Siamese purred loudly bunching his legs close to his fluffy chest. Kuron kissed the cat on the nose. “Maybe you should give it a break. Stick to spies.” 

“Kuro…” Shiro chewed his lip. “Do you…” He cleared his throat. “Do you remember Mom and Dad?”

Kuron stilled. “Yeah. I do.” Mochi meowed and rubbed his head on Kuron’s bicep trying to entice his hand back into motion. “Why?”

Shiro stuffed his hands in his pockets and turned back toward the desk. “I don’t. Not really.” He shifted his weight. “I remember the funeral. Kinda. I remember the caskets and the flowers. And I-I remember you. And Baba. And how I couldn’t wear real clothes yet I was in a wheelchair, I think… But… I don’t remember _them_. Not anymore.”

Frustrated by Kuron’s lack of attention, Mochi jumped out of his arms and trotted away. Kuron let him. His sharp silver eyes narrowed on his brother. “What’s this about? Really?”

Shiro sat on the edge of his bed. “Keith doesn’t think Lotor killed Allura.”

Kuron crossed his arms. “Do you?”

“I don’t… I don’t know.” Shiro fell back on the mattress with a huff.

“Who does Keith think did it?”

Shiro splayed his arms out to his side. “He didn’t say. I think he knows more than he’s told me.”

Kuron hummed. “What did you think of him? Of Lotor?”

“It’s clear the man is suffering. But… Is that innocence? Does grief make you innocent?”

“He can be sad and be a killer.”

“So you think he did it?” Shiro propped himself up on his elbows. “You think Lotor killed her?”  
Kuron pressed his lips together. “I think you should stay away from him, Kashi.”

“Who? Lotor?”

“Keith.”

The old doorbell crackled to life sending the tinny sound of chimes through the old house. 

Kuron looked back frowning over his shoulder. “Expecting someone?”

“Takashi!” Jiji shouted happily. “Takashi! Keith is here!” 

Shiro moved past Kuron and leaned out the doorway. “Be down in a second!” 

“Kashi,” Kuron put his hand on Shiro’s shoulder. “I mean it.”

Shiro shrugged him off. “It’s fine, Kuro.” He grabbed an old t-shirt from his dresser. “ _I’m_ fine. I’m…” He closed the dresser with a huff. “I’m over it. Okay? It’s been... Years.“ He sighed. “I’m fine.”

“You go on up, Keith! You know where he is,” Jiji laughed from downstairs.

“Thanks, Mr. Matsuda!” Keith answered from the stairs. 

“You call me ‘Jiji’, Keith! Like you used to, okay?”

Keith’s laughed from the top of the stairs. “Okay, Mr. Matsuda." His boots fell heavy on the hardwood of the hallway. "I mean…” Keith paused at Shiro's doorway eyes wide. “H-Hey, Shiro.” 

“Keith,” Shiro smiled despite himself. “It’s good to see you.” And it was. God, it really was. Would Shiro ever get used to how casually beautiful his best friend had become? 

He was killing Shiro without even trying. 

He had his long black hair pulled into the messy semblance of a bun, thick strands falling loose framing the most perfect face Shiro had ever seen. Shiro wanted to reach out and pull it free, run his fingers through it, see if it felt as soft as it looked. 

Keith looked away pink dusting his cheeks. “You too.” He cleared his throat. “Oh… uh… Hey, Kuron.”

“Keith.” Kuron greet him with a rigid nod then looked at Shiro. “Put your shirt on, Takashi.”

“O-Oh! Right.” Heat rose in Shiro’s cheeks as he wiggled into the an old Veronicas t-shirt. Why was this still here? It was at least two sizes too small forcing the neon pink logo to stretch to near illegibility across his chest. 

Keith made a choking sound.

“Are you okay?” 

Keith’s face was fully red. “I’m good.” He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his tight black jeans and toed the edge of the carpet. “I’m good. I uh… I thought you might wanna come…With me. Come with me. To-To check out this box that Pidge dug up.”

Kuron cleared his throat. “I’ll see you later, Kashi.” He cut Keith a look as he pushed off the doorframe and disappeared down the hall. 

"Sorry about him," Shiro turned back to the dresser to grab socks. "He's in one of his moods."

"It's fine."

Shiro slipped his socks on. "Keith-"

"Yeah?"

He sighed. "Look, about the other-"

"Don't worry about it."

"But, I-"

"You were right."

"What?"

Keith sighed and stepped closer. "I was using you. I mean," he sighed, "I was planning on it."

Shiro wasn't sure why, but the acknowledgment hurt more than he expected. "Right." He leaned forward on his elbows. "I guess it's what I deserve." He forced a smile. "You have every right to hate me."

"Yeah, I do."

Shiro picked at a loose thread on the knee of his sweatpants. "For what's it worth… I'm sorry." He focused on the stray black fiber. "I had my reasons for doing what I did."

"What were they?"

Shiro pressed his lips together. _You,_ he wanted to say, but it wouldn't help. It wouldn't change anything. It wouldn't make Keith love him back. "I thought it was the right thing."

"For you?"

"For-For everyone, Keith." _But mostly for you._ "I can't… I can't take it back." He took a deep breath forcing himself to look up. "I deserve to be used. To be hated. I deserve whatever you want to do to me or say or yell." He rose from the bed only to kneel at Keith's feet. "So go ahead." Shiro felt the pinprick of tears at the back of his eyes as he gazed up at Keith's perfect face. "Do it."

"Fuck… Shiro…" Keith tucked a hair behind his ear and leaned down. “I wanna be… So much..." He cupped Shiro's jaw and swallowed hard. "Can we-Can we be friends again?"

“Yes.” Shiro reached up and grazed Keith’s jaw with his fingertips. "Keith, I-"

"Hope I'm not interrupting." Kuron frowned from the doorway. 

Keith stood straight. Shiro scrambled to his feet.

Kuron pinned Keith with an icy stare. "I need you to move your motorcycle."

"Fine. We were just leaving," Keith grabbed Shiro's wrist and pulled him past Kuron and down the stairs. Shiro glanced up at his brother as he toed his sneakers on and gave a little wave.

Kuron only stared. 


	2. Chapter 2

The ride to the station took less than five minutes, but it was enough time for the reality of what just happened to sink in. 

And for Shiro to panic.

Keith wanted to give him another chance. A chance Shiro wanted, but never dreamed he would get. 

He could not fuck this up. 

Keith tugged his helmet off and pulled his hair free. Silky black waves fell past his broad shoulders. Shiro’s fingers twitched at the thought of touching it. 

But no. 

He wasn’t going to fuck this up. 

Keith stretched his arms above his head and let out a throaty moan as he arched his back. The sound sending blood straight from Shiro’s brain to traitorous cock. 

He forced himself to look away staring far too hard at a chip in the paint of his helmet. 

“Shiro?”

“Yeah?” He chanced a look to his right and wished he hadn’t. Keith was looking up at him under his lashes attempting to pull his hair up into a fluffy top-knot. Meanwhile, much to Shiro’s dismay, Keith’s shirt had ridden up across his stomach revealing a perfect little trail of course, dark hair leading under the waistband of his low cut jeans. 

Shiro’s mouth went dry. 

Keith had no right to be this pretty. 

No. Fucking. Right.

“Are you okay there, big guy?” Keith took the helmet from his hands. 

Shiro blinked trying to erase the image of Keith’s Adonis belt from his mind. “Sure. Yeah. Great.”

Keith smiled. “I mean it. I really do wanna be friends again.”

Right. Friends. 

Shiro swallowed his disappointment. “Me too. I-” He sighed. “I really do.”

“Good.” Keith pressed his lips together. “Romelle said it would be good for me, ya know? Forgive and forget and all that.”

“Romelle?” Right. 

Keith started toward the door. “She’s been on my ass about it since you came back. Before even. And when she figured out my plans… Ha! She was pissed.”

Shiro forced a smile. “I’m sure she’s just looking out for you.” 

Keith entered a code into a keypad on the door. “Yeah. Sure. She’s just lucky I love her.”

Whatever flicker of happiness Shiro had left from his rekindled friendship, was doused in an instant. “She really is.”

Keith pushed the door open and held it. “After you.”

Shiro stepped past Keith into a cold hallway lined with narrow wooden doors. Fluorescent lights hummed in the low ceiling casting an unnatural blue onto the brick red tiles below. They had entered through a lower level of the old building. It was filled with storage rooms and offices.

“This way.” Keith stepped past and started down the narrow corridor. 

Shiro watched Keith walk, the sway of his hips, his sure steps. He was lighter now, a tension Shiro hadn’t noticed was there until it was gone had seemingly lifted, leaving his movements airy and graceful. He looked back over his shoulder with a grin, sharp little canines peeking out from behind plush lips. He was talking, telling Shiro about each of the rooms they passed and pointing out signs and little placards. Sometimes he would let out a little chuckle and Shiro would mimic the sound, but he wasn’t listening. 

_“She’s lucky I love her.”_

The words were scorching themselves on his mind like a brand. Shiro clenched his teeth and nodded at whatever Keith was saying. The urge to flee was overwhelming, but Shiro stayed. He had known Keith loved her. 

He had.

He knew. 

But hearing it, and so fucking casually, well, it hurt; almost worse than seeing it. 

“Well you remember Matt, right? Pidge’s basically Matt times ten.” Keith pulled open a green metal door.

“Yeah.” Shiro followed Keith down a rubber coated staircase to a dimly lit room lined with large metal shelves. 

Laughter echoed off the cement block walls as they entered. A butterscotch colored blur collided with Keith. “Protect me!” A petite blonde in a baggy green sweater tucked herself behind Keith. 

“Pidge! This is gonna stain!” The brown haired deputy from the other day, Lance, stomped around the corner holding his red streaked uniform out from his stomach. “Salsa stains!” Lance scowled at Keith. “Step aside, man. She’s going down.”

The girl, presumably Pidge, waved a burrito around Keith. “This is my white flag!” She took a deep breath and fought down a laugh as she peered around her human shield. “I’m-hahahahaha-” She clapped a hand over her mouth and forced herself to breathe. “I’m sorry!” She pressed her smiling lips together and stepped out. “I surrender, Lance! Don’t attack!”

Lance looked thoroughly unimpressed. “You don’t seem all that sorry.”

Her cheeks puffed out comically and shoulders shook with barely contained laughter. “I-I-pfffft!” Pidge lost her battle with laughter wrapping her arms around her stomach squeezing her burrito a bit too hard. 

Lance arched a brown and crossed his arms. “You’re sleeping on the couch.”

Pidge took a gasping breath and laughed harder. 

The oversized glasses, the button nose, and that unapologetic grin; this had to be Matt Holt’s sister. He’d been a bit older than Shiro, but his exploits in the science lab were legendary. 

Along with his over the top practical jokes that shut the school down not once, not twice, but on five separate occasions Shiro’s sophomore year. 

They could never _prove_ it was Matt, of course, but everyone knew. Who else would fill the school’s pool with non-Newtonian fluid?

Shiro stepped down the last few steps into the basement and nudged an exasperated looking Keith. “You’re right.”

“Hhmm?”

“She’s just like Matt.”

Keith smiled to himself. “Yeah, but somehow more tolerable.” 

Shiro hummed. “Somehow…” He watched Keith smiling at the couple. He was clearly fond of the pair, no matter how annoyed he tried to be.

Meanwhile, Lance was doing his best to look angry as Pidge dabbed his shirt with a wipe. The blonde sniggering and teasing him as she worked. “You’re so high maintenance,” she sighed.

“Of course I am,” Lance stepped back and waved his hands over his body. “Do you think that magic like this just _happens_?”

Pidge tossed the wipe in a wire wastebasket and turned to Keith mid-eyeroll. “Do you see what I deal with?”

Keith pushed off the wall and walked toward her. “You’re the one marrying him.”

Lance leaned on an old metal desk. “She hit the jackpot. I know.” He winked. “A solid ten.”

Keith snorted. “On a scale of twenty, sure.”

Lance narrowed his eyes. “Big words for a man with a mullet.”

Keith crossed his arms. “Big words for a man with a five-head.”

“I have a normal sized forehead, Keith!” Lance covered his brow with his hand. “It’s normal!”

“Boys!” Pidge stepped between them holding a small brown box. “Can we open the box or are two just gonna keep arguing over who’s prettier?”

Keith scoffed.

Lance huffed and crossed his arms. “He started it.”

“Did not.”

“Did too.”

Pidge sat the box on the desk. “I don’t care who started it.” She grabbed a pair of nitrile gloves from an overfilled box. “I’m finishing it.”

Lance stuck his tongue out at Keith.

Keith flipped him off.

“Besides,” Pidge snapped her gloves on. “Shiro’s the pretty one.”

Lance gasped. 

Keith laughed. 

Shiro blushed. 

“Don’t you think, Keith?” Pidge flicked on a microscope.

Lance stared at her with a pout for a few seconds longer before loudly exclaiming “Oh!” 

A faint blush colored Keith’s cheeks. 

Shiro tried to hide his embarrassment, “How’d you know who I am?”

Pidge gave him a deadpan stare. “You’re kidding, right?” She turned back to the box. “I’ve only heard about you non-stop for the last three years.” She pulled the lid off and carefully set it to the side. “Besides-” She reached in removing a small evidence bag. “You look just like Kuron.” She held the bag up for inspection. “Except the hair and stuff.”

“Whatcha got, Pidge?” Keith moved beside her grabbing another pair of gloves. 

Shiro moved closer. “It looks like paper.”

“They’re flower petals.” Pidge frowned. 

Keith took the bag from her. “From the lilies…” 

“What?” Lance craned his neck.

“There were two types of flowers mentioned in the reports. Lilies and mums.”

“Mums?”

“Chrysanthemums,” Shiro watched Keith examining the shriveled petal. “It’s what we had at my parents’...” 

“What?” Lance prompted.  
“Their funeral,” Keith answered. “Yellow mums and white lilies.” He shoved the bag back at Pidge. “What else is in there?”

She frowned and set the bag aside. “Looks like photos and papers.” She reached back in and pulled out another evidence bag. Shiro watched with a furrowed brow. It looked empty at first glance. 

Pidge held the bag up and shifted it around. A small clear bag shifted inside. 

Shiro squinted at the smaller bag, there was a faint little...

“Keith,” Pidge adjusted her glasses. “This looks like… Like a hair.”  
Keith swore under his breath. 

“A hair?” Shiro stared at the bag. “They said there was no physical evidence from the killer. That-”

“There wasn’t.” Keith bit his lip. “Pidge?”  
She sliced through the red evidence tape with a scalpel. “That’s what I always heard. But…” She fished a smaller bag out of the evidence bag. “I don’t know…” She worked the smaller plastic bag onto the microscope’s stage. 

Keith chewed his lip, eyes glued to Pidge back. “Pidge?” She ignored him in favor of twisting a knob. Keith reached back without looking grabbing hold of Shiro’s forearm. 

Without thinking, Shiro covered Keith’s hand with his. He leaned forward watching Pidge squint into the eyepiece. 

She hummed and rotated the bag. "It's thick… Abrupt color change…"

"Is there a root?" Shiro swallowed. A root was essential for genetic testing.

Pidge frowned. "Yeah. But-"

"What?" Keith squeezed between Shiro and Pidge. "What is it?"

"The cuticle is spinous."

"F-Pidge!" Keith sounded pained. "I don't know what that means."

Shiro let go of Keith's hand and wrapped his arm around his shoulder. "What does it mean, Pidge?"

Pidge let her glasses fall back onto her nose and pulled the bag from the microscope. She held it out to Keith. "It's not human."

"What?" Lance leaned over Keith's shoulder and frowned that the bag in his hand. "Like… What do you mean 'not human'?"

"As in animal."

"As in-" Keith started.

Lance grabbed the bag. "As in Bigfoot?"

Keith snatched the bag back. "How are you this stupid?"

Pidge snatched the bag back from Keith, giving her boyfriend a droll look. "More like cat hair."

"Cat hair?" Lance parroted.

"Allura didn't have a cat," Shiro pursed his lips. "She had a white Pomeranian named Mouse."

"Cat?" Keith bit his bottom lip. "Are you sure?"

"Pretty sure," Pidge shrugged. "That's probably why it's been in this box. There's not much we can do with it." She opened a new evidence bag and dropped the smaller bag in.

Keith took a deep breath. "Color?"

"Huh?" Pidge arched her brow.

"What color is the cat hair?"

"Oh…" she resumed taping the bag. "Like a cream color with black tip." She scribbled on the bag. "Why?"

"Like Mochi," Shiro smiled. "Probably a Siamese then."

Keith pulled the box toward him. He pulled a handful of pictures off the bottom, most Shiro had seen. Close ups of Allura's hair, her nails, her lifeless blue eyes…

Keith dropped them back in.

"Keith?" Shiro put his hand on the side of the box.

Keith shook his head and pulled out a few yellow paper scraps. "Tire measurements…"

"Iverson's?"

Keith shook his head. "There were two sets. Barely." He grabbed a photo and held it in front of him. "Here." He jabbed the glossy print with his gloved finger. "Iverson drove through them, but there were others." 

Shiro stared at the picture. Dry brown sand on the edge of the road decorated with zigs of tread. "Keith, I-"

Keith grabbed the photo and moved next to him. "Look, see these ridges here? And these over here?" 

"Yes."

Keith traced along the lines. "See those V-patterns in the middle?"

Shiro nodded.

"Okay." Keith turned the photo sideways. "Look here." He took Shiro's finger and led it down the photo. His long, slim fingers easily wrapping around Shiro's thicker one. Shiro audibly gulped. "O-Okay."

"This pattern is different. Bigger. See these lateral grooves?" 

Shiro didn't. "Uh huh…"

"I've narrowed it down to a couple of bigger sized truck and SUV wheels."

"Yeah?"

Keith looked up at him. "Yeah… Like your brother used…" He was so close. Shiro could see the flecks of purple in his eyes. Those eyes…God. They were so beautiful and expressive and ferocious and… And it would be so simple to lean in. Just a little. Close the distance between them and-

"There's nothing else here worth anything," Pidge sighed. "Looks like some duplicate photos, more photos, and notes."

Keith cleared his throat and stepped away from Shiro. "Yeah." He tossed the photo back in the box. 

Shiro mentally kicked himself. What was he thinking? 

Keith started toward the stairs fists in his pockets. "Oh and Lance?"

Lance looked up from where he was picking at his stained shirt. "Yeah?"

"Lemon juice." 

"What?"

Keith was halfway up the staircase. "For the salsa!"

Shiro hurried after him. 

Keith was halfway through the parking lot by the time Shiro caught up to him. “Keith!” He reached out and grabbed his shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

Indecision flitted across Keith’s face. “Shiro…” His Adam’s apple bopped as he swallowed. “There’s something-No-” he cleared his throat “Shiro…” Keith sighed. 

“Keith…” Shiro ran his hand down Keith’s arm. “If I…” He let go. “If I did anything-”

Keith put his hand over Shiro’s mouth and shook his head slowly. “Shiro, no.” His hand slowly moved to cup Shiro’s cheek. “Stop. It isn’t you. Not this time.” He let his hand fall back to his side. “Come on, I’ll take you home.”

Shiro nodded. “Okay.” He followed Keith to the motorcycle, the warmth of his hand fading from his lips.

  
  
  
  
  


Keith parked on the street, catching the heel of his boot on the kickstand and pulling his helmet off. 

Shiro watched still unsure of the mood. Something was wrong. But he wasn’t going to push it. Even though Keith smiled back at him, the tension was back in the way he moved. Shiro handed his helmet to Keith and searched for the right thing to say. 

“Look, if you-”

“Watch out!” Keith grabbed Shiro by the arm and pulled him onto the sidewalk.

Shiro stumbled over the curb narrowly avoiding being mowed down by a lemon yellow 10-speed and the red BMX bike behind it. 

“Watch it!” Keith called after the pre-teen drivers.He laughed to himself as he braced Shiro. “How the hell did you make it in Chicago?”

Shiro huffed and straightened his stance. “The 12 year olds there have guns, not Huffys.”

“Pfft,” Keith rolled his eyes. “You lived in Hyde Park; not Englewood.”

“Yeah, there were trust funds instead, even worse.”

Keith snorted. “You’re an idiot.” 

Shiro laughed. “Wanna order a pizza?”

Keith pressed his lips together and nodded. “Yeah. Sure.” He glanced over at the fence. “Race ya,” Keith hopped over the gate before Shiro realized what was happening. “Loser pays!”

“Hey!” He followed Keith over the fence. “No fair!”

Keith paused on the stairs long enough to dangle Shiro’s keyring. 

“You little…” Shiro laughed and jumped onto the porch. “You better give me my keys.” 

Keith shook the keys at him and danced backwards. “Or what? I’m an officer of the law.”

“Fine.” In a swift motion Shiro dove at Keith’s middle big hands easily encircling his friend’s waist as he hoisted Keith over his shoulder. A tried and true method he’d perfected on him as kids. 

Keith let out an indignant squeak. “Sh-Shiro!”

“Sorry!” Shiro squatted down, Keith firmly in place, and snatched the fallen keys off the porch. 

“Shiro!” Keith’s body shook with laughter. “You giant idiot! Put me down!”

“Sssshhhhhh!” Shiro maneuvered the key into the lock. “Jiji and Kuro are sleeping.” He nudged the door open with his hip just as the screen door closed on Keith’s head. Keith’s body shook harder with the force of barely contained laughter. Shiro snorted and tried to adjust his hold but only succeeded in knocking Keith’s head against the otherside of the doorframe.

“Shiro!” Keith laughed. “Oh my God!” He clapped both hands over his head knocking the rest of his hair down. 

Shiro pulled Keith forward letting his lithe body slide along Shiro’s chest as he set him on the ground. Keith looked up at him through a curtain of loose hair with sparkling violet eyes and smiled, hunger long forgotten.

Laughter faded and Shiro realized how close he was to those plush pink lips. Maybe it was the adrenaline or the heat or just the fact that Keith was still the most beautiful person he’d ever seen; whatever it was, Shiro found himself unable to stop himself. He leaned forward sweeping his lips across Keith’s. Keith gasped against Shiro’s mouth pressing forward in soft urgency. Shiro’s fingers caught the edge of a sharp jawline and guided Keith in parting his lips with the sweep of an impatient tongue. Keith’s long fingers grasped at Shiro’s hips urging him closer and closer still. 

God, it wasn’t enough. Could never be enough. 

But… It was wrong.

Shiro pulled back wide-eyed and panting. “Fuck….” He jerked away from Keith like his touch burned. What was he thinking? “I’m-I’m so sorry. Keith-I-I-” He was despicable, ridiculous, pathetic. 

Keith bit his lip and made for the door. “It’s fine,” he replied stiffly, “Just another mistake. Like last time.”

Shiro froze. “Keith, no. That’s not what I-”

“Then what is?” Keith swung around, hand on the doorknob and tears in his eyes. “Huh?” He stalked across the room. “What is it then, Takashi? Why did you? Then? Now? Huh? Why?” He glared up at him, angry tears flowing freely. “Why do you do this to me?” 

“Keith…” Shiro managed the word over the sob lodged in his throat. With a trembling hand he wiped the moisture from Keith’s cheek. “I…” Shiro closed his eyes. There was nowhere left to run. “I’m in love with you.” The words he’d been holding onto for 22 years. “I’ve loved you my entire life.” He swallowed hard and forced himself to look at Keith.

Keith stared up at him with wide violet eyes. “What?”  
Familiar shame welled up inside, but Shiro pressed on. “I’m sorry,” he swallowed hard. “But... It’s true. That’s why I left. Why I have to leave again.”

Keith grabbed his arm. “Shiro, no.” He squeezed harder as he searched Shiro’s face. “You left because of me?”

Shiro didn’t bother fighting back his tears anymore. He was pathetic. “Yes,” he nodded. “I’m so sorry, Keith. I couldn’t-I mean-”

Keith surged forward knocking Shiro back onto the couch and capturing his lips in a bruising kiss. “You fucking idiot,” he panted. He kissed him again as he settled into his lap. “God… Shiro… You’re so -ah-so-” He ran his hands up Shiro’s chest and hissed. “Fuck.” 

“Keith-” Shiro moaned when Keith rolled his hips in his lap. “What-What about Romelle?”

Keith replied by slipping his tongue into Shiro’s mouth and biting his lip.

Using the last bit of self-restraint he had left, Shiro held Keith back by the shoulders. “Keith,” he managed. “Romelle.”

“What about her?” Keith furrowed his brow.

“She’s your girlfriend.”

Keith blinked down at Shiro. “What?”  
“I’m sorry.” Shiro moved to stand, but Keith pinned him against the couch. 

“You think Romelle is my girlfriend?” His voice was flat. 

Shiro’s stomach dropped and all he could do was nod.

To his utter confusion, Keith burst into laughter, unrestrained, beautiful laughter. The kind he hadn’t heard since they were teenagers.

“K-Keith?” 

Keith cupped Shiro’s cheek and pressed their foreheads together. “Ya know,” he pressed a soft kiss to Shiro’s lips, “For someone so smart, you’re a real dumbass.” He leaned back and shook his head the last peels of laughter fading away. “Shiro…Hhmm... Takashi…” He looked at Shiro with a bittersweet smile. “She’s the first person I came out to.”

“What?”

Keith sat back in Shiro’s lap. “Shiro, I was going to come out to you that night.” He ran the back of his hand across Shiro’s jaw. “I was going to tell you that I was… “ he sighed “That I was in love with you.”

Shiro’s heart stopped. “You… You… “

Keith nodded. “Romelle was waiting for me in case it went bad… And…” He let his hands drop back into his lap. “And it did.”

“You loved me?” Shiro wanted to scream, to cry, to deny it all. 

But he couldn’t. It was there. 

Facts he couldn’t refute.

He’d been such an idiot. A selfish fucking idiot. He had the world right in front of him this entire time and all he had to do was reach out and take it.

But, instead, he threw it away because he was too afraid to ask. Fresh tears burned his eyes.

Small calloused hands cupped his face and drew him in. Sweet, soft lips brushed against his. “I still do, Shiro. I’ve never stopped.”

Shiro’s heart raced. He pressed his hand over Keith’s and held his gaze begging with his eyes. “You mean…?”

Keith smiled and pressed against him. “I love you, Shiro. I’m in love with you too.” He smiled softly. “I guess we’re both idiots.”

Shiro brushed a stray hair from Keith’s cheek.”Yeah.” He reached up and pulled him in, the rest of the world lost in that gentle contact. But Keith didn't want gentle; and after all this time, neither did Shiro. 

Keith moaned deep in his throat the sound falling past his lips to Shiro's where it was drowned out by want. He circled his around Keith pulling him closer. Always closer. He needed him impossibly closer. 

Keith fell against him urgently seeking the intimacy they had so long denied each other. He knotted his long gloved fingers in Shiro's shirt tugging the too-tight cotton up revealing tawny muscles working under smooth skin. 

"Keith," Shiro gasped the name like a drowning man, overwhelmed with pent up longing. 

Keith replied by grinding down on Shiro's lap, pulling a whine from his chest. "Bed." 

Shiro stole a gasping kiss as he lifted Keith, still in his lap, and stood wrapping long legs around his waist. Keith tilted his head back and laughed. "Show off."

Shiro squeezed Keith's thigh and kissed along his neck. "Like it?"

Keith hummed contentedly. "Yeah." He bit down on Shiro's bottom lip. "Now take me upstairs and impress me."

Shiro was more than happy to oblige. 

  
  
  
  


Shiro woke early the next morning to Keith awkwardly straddling his thighs. “H-Hey…” 

Keith flinched. “Sorry.”

“Are you…” Shiro’s stomach sank as he sat up on his elbows. “Are you sneaking out?”

Keith’s eyes grew wide. “No!” He bit his lip and sighed. “Yeah.”

Shiro’s stomach rolled. “Oh…”

“Fuck.” Keith leveraged himself on Shiro’s chest and straddled his hips properly. “Not like that.” He leaned over and brushed Shiro’s hair back dropping a sweet kiss on his forehead. “Dumbass.”

Shiro pressed his lips together and swallowed down his fear. “Really?”

Keith chuckled softly the reverberations sounding through Shiro’s chest easing his fears. “Really.” Keith kissed the bridge of Shiro’s nose along his scar. “I wouldn’t do that to you.” 

Shiro ran his hands up Keith’s bare thighs. “Where are you ‘not sneaking’ off to then.”

“I have to run a quick errand for work and then…” He swept his lips along Shiro’s. “I thought we could have some breakfast.” He nipped Shiro’s bottom lip pulling it into his mouth. “In bed.”

Shiro moaned beneath him bringing his hands up along the smooth planes of Keith’s back. “Are you sure I can’t tempt you with an early morning snack?” He swept his tongue along the seam of Keith’s lips tangling his fingers in long black hair. Shiro shifted pressing his very interested erection against the cleft of Keith’s deliciously nude ass. “Ah sshh… Sh-Shiro…” Keith whined against Shiro’s jaw. “Fuck. I want to so bad. So.” Kiss. “So.” Another kiss.”So fucking bad.” 

“But?” Shiro mouthed along Keith’s neck drawing a husky moan from his throat.

“Unh… But, I-” Keith pressed his finger against Shiro’s lips and smiled down at his lover’s pouting face. “I gotta do this.”

Shiro kissed Keith’s finger. “Fine.”

“Thank you.” Keith kissed him and crawled off the bed. 

Shiro rolled over onto his side and watched Keith gather his clothes. The fiery golds and oranges of the morning sun had already melted away into brilliant summery yellows and painted Keith in crisp vernal light. Shiro drank in the sight determined to commit very line, every bend, every angle of Keith’s body to memory as he moved around the room. Keith winked and blew kisses every time he turned to find Shiro still watching. Shiro knew he had the biggest, dopiest grin on his face, but… God… How could he not?

This was real. 

It was all real.

Keith loved him.

He could die happy now.

“What?” Keith smiled at him in the mirror while working an elastic around the end of a haphazard braid. 

“You’re beautiful.”

Keith quirked brow. “Talking to yourself, old timer?”

Unable to resist, Shiro threw his blanket off and strode across the room wrapping his arms around Keith’s back and nuzzling into his freshly marked neck. “I love you." It felt amazing to say. 

Keith leaned against him lacing their hands together against the chiseled plane of his stomach. “I love you too.”

Shiro managed to waylay Keith another ten minutes before he finally let him go with the promise to be back in an hour. 

Later in life, Shiro would look back on that morning and think of F. Scott Fitzgerald and how he’d once said, “Sometimes we’re on a collision course, and we just don’t know it. Whether it’s by accident or by design, there’s not a thing we can do about it.” 

He had showered in rush, thinking only of having breakfast ready for Keith upon his return, but instead found that the only things in the refrigerator were 2 tubs of protein, 7 jars of kimchi, and a half empty packet of imitation crab meat; none of which were romantic breakfast worthy. So he checked the cabinets.

While Shiro was searching the cabinets at half past eight in the morning, he had no idea that Keith had stopped off at Black Lion Customs to confront Kuron.

And while Shiro gave up on cooking and called in a to-go order at Sal’s Diner, Kuron had taken a torque wrench from his tool box with the intent of silencing Keith’s accusation once the deputy’s back was turned. As Shiro was starting the car, Keith was walking toward the shop door. 

The wrench came down with a hollow _twack_ at the same time, Shiro noticed his lover’s motorcycle in front of his brother’s garage. And thinking it odd, Shiro pulled over and went inside only to find Keith unconscious on the concrete floor. 

“Oh my God! Keith!” 

But in his panic, he failed to notice Kuron in the corner with the torque wrench in his hand.

“Keith! Keith! Wake up!”

And life being what it is - a series of intersecting incidents and, out of anyone’s control - the last thing Shiro saw as the wrench came down, was his brother’s face.

  
  
  
  


The first thing that struck Shiro as he came to, was the smell. It was curious, but familiar; the sweet smell of fresh cut hay entwined with the tang of dirt and age. The next thing he noticed was that it was hot. It was humid. It almost felt like he was outside. But the echo of his coughs and groans meant there were walls, high walls.

Shiro forced his aching eyes open one at a time hissing in pain at the blearly light. He tried to lift his hands to shield his sensitive eyes, but he couldn’t seem to move his arms. 

Not understanding his inability to move, Shiro tried to stand, but his legs held fast to the chair. 

Chair? He was in a chair? 

His hazy mind reeled at the revelation. 

A heard shuffling in shadows to his left. He turned his head and groaned at the wave of nausea that followed. ‘H-Hello?” His dry throat struggled to form the greeting as he squinted into the dark. There was a dark lump on the floor shrouded in uneven light. 

But that didn’t make sense, none of this made sense. The last thing he remembered he was at the shop and Keith-

“Keith!”

Oh God… Keith! 

Keith was hurt! He needed help!

Shiro strained in his seat tugging against the restraints. Hard plastic lines cut into his wrist and scraped against his prosthetic. He twisted his arms until his flesh burned, but it was no good; he was fastened tight to the back of the chair. Switching gears, he tried to kick out, but his legs were secured to the heavy wood of the chair legs with thick white zip ties. 

Ignoring the pain, he searched the room around him. Murky sunlight shot beams of light through rusted out metal spilling pools of light on the craggy remains of a grain silo. His eyes again fell on the lump on the floor. 

“Keith!”

It moved. 

“Keith! K-Keith!” Shiro leaned as far as he could toward the figure. “Keith! Answer me! Please!” 

The body moved again, rolling to the side and letting out long muffled moan. 

“Keith!” Shiro tried to leverage his legs and move closer. “Hold on!”

“Ssshhhh….” A heavy hand landed on Shiro’s shoulder sending a wave of dread over him settling in the pit of his stomach. “You’ll wake him up.”

No.

Please, God. No…

“And I don’t want to ruin the surprise.” 

Shiro crumbled. “Kuro…” He shook his head. “No. No. Kuro.”

“Hey…” Kuron leaned over his brother sweeping his hand through sweat damp hair. “It’s alright, Kashi.” He swept his thumb under Shiro’s eye wiping tears away. 

“Kuro, what…” he choked on a sob. “What is this?”

Kuron stood straight and smiled down at Shiro. “I’m taking care of it. I’m taking care of _us,_ Kashi.”

“Us?”

“Our family.” Kuron looked over his shoulder at Keith. “Too many people have hurt us. Hurt _you_.”

Keith’s muffled shouts echoed off the corrugated walls. Kuron smiled. “I’m going to make sure that nobody hurts my family again.”

“No.”

Kuron turned away.

“No! Kuron!” Shiro struggled against the plastic ties that held him to the chair. Blood and sweat poured down down his wrist dripping onto the broken concrete. “Kuron! Kuron! Kuro, no! Stop! No! No! Stop!” He jerked his leg trying to break the chair that held him. “Fucking stop!” 

But Kuron paid him no mind as he stalked across the silo to where Keith writhed on the ground. He fought against his bindings screaming and huffing through the duct tape over his mouth. Kuron huffed a laugh as he stood over him. 

“Kuron!” Shiro’s voice cracked with strain. “Kuro! Don’t do this! Don’t!”

“Kashi, do you even know _why_ I’m doing this?” Kuron’s voice was flat. He bent over Keith and grabbed ahold of the plastic ties that bound his arms and hauling him up just off the floor. Kuron drug him forward into the shaft of light that shone through the rusted out silo wall. He tossed Keith onto the cracked concrete in front of Shiro.

“Kuro,” Shiro pleaded, tears mixing with blood and sweat down his face. “Kuro, please… Please…” He pressed his feet against the floor and tried to move closer. “Please… Please…”

Kuron looked over at him with pity and sighed. “Kashi… Do you remember when Mom and Dad died?”

“Wh-What?”

“Do you remember it?” He turned toward Shiro leaving Keith forgotten on the ground.

A frantic thought entered Shiro’s mind, if he could distract Kuron, maybe Keith could get free. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.” Shiro tried not to watch Keith working his wrists.

“The accident, Takashi. Do you remember the accident?” Kuron moved toward him. 

“N-No… I was-I was asleep. I don’t remember anything. Nothing ‘til I woke up in the hospital.” He pulled on his arms. “What does this have to do with anything? Jesus!”

Kuron crouched in front of him and ran his hand along the seam of scar tissue where Shiro’s prosthetic connected to his flesh. “I saw everything. I remember everything,” Kuron whispered.

Shiro froze. “What?”

Kuron nodded. “Kashi, I saw _him_.” He looked at Shiro. “I saw who killed Mom and Dad.” He squeezed Shiro’s bicep. “He got out of the car and-And he looked right at me. He looked at us! There bleeding on the pavement! And… I-” Kuron pressed his lips together. “I held onto your little hand.” He shuddered at the feel of cold steel where flesh should be. “I asked him to help us… But... He left.” He glared up at Shiro. “He left us to die.”

“Kuron…” Shiro’s mind was racing. He was nauseous. 

“And do you know who that was, huh? Who left a 9 year old on the side of the road holding your mangled fingers?” Kuron rose up bracketing 

Shiro in his arms. “No other than the same man who tried to buy a clean conscious by paying off our doctor’s bills and paying for the funerals.”

“Th-That was anonymous. It was through the Altea Foundation…” No. No.

“The money came from the same Great Man who paid for your fancy fucking arm!” Kuron was yelling by the end his hands shaking with barely contained rage. “It wasn’t a prototype, Kashi!”

Shiro shook his head in disbelief. There was only one man it could be. “Alfor… Alfor Altea. Allura’s… Father.”

“That’s right! It wasn’t a fucking prototype, Kashi. He was buying his way to a clean conscious!” Kuron stood straight. “He took the whole world from us. He hurt us. He _hurt_ you, Kashi.” Kuron flexed his fingers. “I told you nobody was ever gonna hurt you again.”

“Kuro…” Shiro swallowed thickly. “You-You killed Allura. Allura never hurt me. She never did anything to anyone.”

Kuron shook his head. “You’re missing the point, little brother. Alfor took our world from us; so _I_ took the world from _him_.”

Bile rose in Shiro’s throat. “Allura…” 

Kuron hummed. “That’s right. His perfect little princess.” He turned around with a smile. “And now…” He rolled Keith onto his back with the toe of his boot. “You.” Kuron crouched down next to Keith and brushed the hair out of his eyes. “Nobody’s hurt my baby brother more than you, Keith. Nobody.”

Cold panic overtook Shiro. The pain in his wrist and legs were nothing but static in the background of his desperation. “Kuron! No! No! No!” He pulled and tossed his body frantically until the chair hit the ground with a sharp crack. Shiro’s head bounced off the dirty concrete and his vision dimmed. “No!” he gritted between clenched teeth and fought to focus his darkening vision.

Slowly Kuron reached to his side the leather sheath he kept on his side sprang open with a flick of his fingers. Long, strong fingers that wrapped firmly around the yellowed bone handle. “You’re never gonna hurt Takashi again.” 

“No!” Shiro bucked against the chair until his leg kicked free and the heavy wooden chair leg clanged to the floor 

Kuron pulled the buck knife from the leather Silver steel glinted in the pale light as the blade moved closer to Keith’s face. 

Shiro screamed again. “Don’t you fucking touch him! Kuron!” He used his freed leg to push against the back legs. He pulled forward cracking the legs. 

“Sssssshhhhhh….” Kuron clicked his tongue and laid the knife against Keith’s cheek. “It’s gonna be fine, Kashi.” He cocked his head and pushed down. The blade sliced through Keith’s skin skin effortlessly. Crimson welled under the blade and followed Kuron’s path down Keith’s cheek. Keith huffed and strained bucking his hips and kicking his legs.

Shiro screams never stopped. The back of the chair gave way next. He swung his bound arms through the splintered gap. Shaking with rage and fear, he worked his arms under his hips to the front. With numb, blood slick hands, he grasped the broken chair leg. He rose on unsteady legs and staggered forward where his brother was bent over the man he loved carving bloody lines into his flesh. Shiro flexed his shaky fingers around the wood and with all the strength could muster, brought the chair leg down on Kuron’s head.

A dull thud echoed off the corrugated steel, blood splattered across Keith’s face, and Kuron fell limply to the side. 

Shiro’s knees gave way and he hit the concrete hard. He barely noticed the jolt of pain as he leveraged himself on the floor with his bound hands and pushed himself closer to Keith. He reached out with trembling hands to cup his lover’s bleeding cheek. “I’m so sorry,” he sobbed. “Keith… I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” His blood slicked fingers grasped at the edge of the duct tape sealed across Keith’s lips. Every failed attempt to grasp the silver caused Shiro to cry harder until he managed to pull it free.

“Shiro,” Keith’s voice was hoarse. “Takashi, baby, breath. Breath. I need you to listen. Okay?”

“I’m so sorry,” 

“Ssshhhh… It’s okay, Shiro. It’s not your fault, baby. Okay? Breathe.” Keith sat up the best he could and took deep level breaths until Shiro mimicked him. “I need you to listen to me, okay?”

Shiro nodded. 

“Good. Good, baby. You’re doing so good.”

“I love you, Keith.”

“I love you too, Shiro.” He strained against his binds. “Listen to me, Shiro. I need you to get the knife.”

“Keith-”

Keith shook his head. “It’s okay, baby. We’ll talk later, okay? I’ll listen to you all night. We have all night. But right now listen to me, okay? Get the knife and cut me free. Can you do that?”

Shiro took a deep breath and nodded. 

“Okay. Good. Get the knife, baby. It’s fine.”

Shiro took another deep breath and forced his legs to move. He stumbled as he rose to his feet. He stepped over Keith’s bound legs before falling back to his knees. He focused on the bone handle and worked his fingers around it. 

Keith scooted back toward him. “You’re doing so good, Shiro. You’re doing so good.”

Shiro tried to force his hands to still, but only managed to make them shake more as he worked the blade between the plastic and Keith’s skin. 

“That’s it, baby. Come on.”

The blade sliced through the plastic separating Keith’s hands and then clanged to the floor. Keith ripped the tape the rest of the way off his face. “Come on, baby. I need you to-” He turned around and stopped short. 

“Don’t fucking move, Keith.” Kuron held a different blade to Shiro’s throat. He fisted his hand in Shiro’s hair and forced his neck back.

“Keith…” Shiro panted. “Run.” Shiro huffed out as Kuron pressed the blade down drawing a fine line of red across his throat. 

Kuron laughed wildly. His mouth was too wide, eyes too big. Blood from his temple poured down his face dying his white hair crimson. “Kashi…” He kissed Shiro’s head and nuzzled against his silver hair smearing crimson trails. “Ssshhhh… I’m going to take care of it.” He tugged Shiro’s neck back further and sliced a shallow cut under his brother’s chin.

“Kkkkeeeeiiiittthhh....” Shiro gritted his teeth. “Go!”

Kuron laughed maniacally. “Keith. Keith. Keith.” He nodded at the buck knife on the floor. “Pick it up.”

Keith hesitated.

“Pick it up!” Kuron roared. He cut Shiro across the adam’s apple. 

Keith grabbed the knife. 

“Now…” Kuron kissed Shiro’s temple. “It’s okay, Kashi. It’s okay.” He turned back to Keith. “Now,” he repeated. “You’re gonna take that knife and you’re gonna stab yourself in the heart.”

“No!” Shiro strained against Kuron’s hold. “Keith! No!”

In a swift motion, Kuron brought his fist across down across Shiro’s face. He pulled Shiro’s neck to the side and brought the blade to his jugular. “Do it!” Kuron growled. “Do it, Keith!”

“Keith! Please!” Shiro pleaded, fresh blood trickling down his chin.

Keith held the knife in a white knuckled grip as he stared down at his hand. “You won’t hurt him?”

"You have my word."

"Keith! D-Don't!" Shiro pulled forward, the steel of the blade sinking into his skin.

“Tik tok!” Kuron’s grip tightened in Shiro’s hair. “You’re running out of time!” Blood welled under the metal edge. “Do it!” He tugged Shiro's head to the side. 

With a deep shuddering breath, Keith wrapped his other hand around the handle and brought his gaze up. Watery indigo eyes caught Shiro’s grey, Keith held his slender wrists stiff and extended his arms. “I love you, Shiro.” 

“...no…” A breath of a whisper that tumbled from Shiro's bloodied lips.

Keith closed his eyes. 

Kuron laughed. “Time to atone, Keith.”

Watching the man he loved prepare to die, something inside Shiro gave way. “No!” In blind desperation, Shiro threw his head back slamming into his brother’s chin. The crack of breaking bones echoed through the silo like a ricochet. And for the second time, Kuron crumpled to the ground. 

Shiro scrambled forward on his knees, tears and blood blurring his vision. “Keith! Keith!”

Keith dropped the knife, trembling fingers giving way as he sobbed Shiro's name. As soon as he could reach, he grabbed Shiro's blood soaked shirt, pulled him close burying his face in his bloodied neck. Shiro pressed his cheek against Keith’s hair. 

They were alive. God. They had _lived_.

And in the moment, the bloodied, tear soaked moment, nothing else mattered but each other. 

But they couldn’t stay. 

Hot, thick drops of blood that dripped down Shiro's temple onto Keith’s shoulder. “Keith we… We can’t…”

Keith pushed off his chest nodding. “Sorry,” he sniffed. He turned back and grabbed the knife from the floor. HIs hands still shook, but he made quick work of his and Shiro’s remaining bindings. 

Keith clamored to his feet, before wrapping an arm around Shiro's waist and helping him up. Together they made their way toward the rusted metal door. The distant sound of sirens grew louder with each step. 

Shiro paused in the doorway, looking back. "Is he…?" He couldn't. Even after this. After everything…

Keith squeezed his side and guided him through the doorway into the overgrown field. "He's alive." 

Shiro nodded and let Keith led him towards the sunset. The sirens were louder now. 

Shiro leaned against Kuron's truck and watched the cars speed through the fields, red dust clouds forming in their wake. 

Keith laid his hand against Shiro's chest. Shiro wrapped his own over it.

They'd have to talk. Figure this out. 

Everything was different now. _They_ were different now. 

And the road ahead was full of pain. 

But right now…

Shiro brought his hand to Keith's face and guided him forward pressing their lips together. "I love you."

Keith ignored the squad cars screeching to a stop behind them in favor of kissing Shiro again. "I love you too."

They had each other to get through it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so so much!  
> Let me know what you think!  
> You can find my multi-fandom Twitter [HERE](https://twitter.com/kittykittymoon)


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